


Hell Is Empty

by PeakyFookinBlinders (Sherlocked729)



Category: As Above So Below (2014)
Genre: F/M, Horror, I did research huzzah, Mystery, NOT a one-Shot, Nightmares, PTSD, Romance, Scarlett being Scarlett, basically Scarlett and George being hot messes together, catacombs, some real historical facts in this tho tbh, treasure seeking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-22 02:14:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22407988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlocked729/pseuds/PeakyFookinBlinders
Summary: Starts off the night after they escaped from the catacombs but ends up in another country on another scary adventure into the catacombs of Ukraine where Scarlett and George have another walk into a different kind of hell. They both still haven't recovered from their last adventure as they swim through post traumatic stress, nightmares, and a maze of labyrinths once again. Will they keep their heads and help each other to get out of this mess or will they fall apart?
Relationships: George (As Above So Below)/Scarlett Marlowe
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Hell Is Empty

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first As Above, So Below fic but I've seen it a million times and felt compelled to write one. Feel free to subscribe and comment!

**The Night Of**

\-------

Scarlett didn’t let herself relax until they had escaped from the depths of hell, into the cool Parisian air, and even then, she didn’t let herself relax. She went in for a hug as Zed stumbled in the other direction numbly, and although George obliged, more than willing to embrace her, she barely felt it.

She barely felt anything. Perhaps she was just as numb as Zed was. She looked up at George and saw the same glaze over his own eyes. Scarlett felt guilty that a part of her felt relieved to see it, although she wasn’t sure what other emotion she expected to see in George.

Then the answer came to her.

_Terror._

_She had expected to see terror._

She glanced in the direction she had seen Zed walk down the pavement, but she couldn’t see him anymore. She half-expected to see his feet sticking out of the ground like they had seen Papillion’s back in the catacombs.

Scarlett shook herself away from those thoughts and flinched when she felt a hand on her back start to guide her down the road in the opposite direction. She looked over at George who gave an apologetic look at touching her without warning and awkwardly put his hand back down at his side as they walked.

She felt like an idiot, having felt scared at his touch and flinched like she had done; she had no legitimate reason to do that. George would never hurt her.

It was her turn to look at him apologetically as she took his arm and moved it back to her body, where he kept it now before he gently pulled her closer to him. She didn’t move away or flinch this time, welcoming his secure touch.

When they arrived at the hotel, the receptionist didn’t even look up at them as they headed for the elevator, their legs too shaky to make it up stairs right now. They weren’t sure what time it was but judging by the lack of people in the lobby and the elevator, it had to be late.

Scarlett was grateful for it, though. They were both covered in blood, grime and dirt, and smelled like dead things. As the elevator doors closed, she leaned into George’s lean body, and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. 

“Do you think… that happens to other people who enter the catacombs? They’re just… dragged into Hell and forced to be punished for whatever sins they’ve committed? What are the odds they’d end up in those exact chambers, Scarlett? What are the odds that we did?”

There were questions that Scarlett couldn’t process right now. She wanted to give him a brief answer out of exhaustion, but she knew the logical answer to it. She looked up at him.

“We were looking for the Stone, George… we knew exactly where it was, so… I think the odds of us ending up in those exact chambers were good,” she almost whispered as the elevator dinged at their floor.

Neither of them said anything else as they entered their room and locked it behind them. Silence crashed in waves between them like a violent ocean as they both started to get undressed and quickly got into the shower together. They let the water baptize them both before starting to wash each other with shaking hands.

They had just rinsed themselves when Scarlett suddenly broke down, letting the dam break as tears quickly ran down her cheeks. The suddenness of it all startled George who was quiet for a moment before finally asking,

“Scarlett…?”

She shook her head, her body heaving in sobs. She hated crying in front of anyone, but most of all George. She took a gasping breath as she tried to calm herself down.

He wrapped his arms around her tightly, holding her close now as he caressed her wet hair with one hand. “Shh… it’s okay, Scarlett. We’re safe. We’re safe in here…”

She tried her best to believe him, _wanting_ with all her heart to believe him. A naïve part of her had thought they’d be reasonably safe in the catacombs as well and look what happened.

Papillion died.

Siouxie had died.

_Benji had died._

George had almost died.

The harsh reality of Benji crashed over her and the thought of losing George forever sent another sob that rattled her ribcage and made her hold onto him tighter.

“It’s okay,” he soothed. “It’s over…”

She barely heard his words as she cried into him, he tears mixing with the shower, and about ten minutes later, she had somehow managed to calm down, but she yearned for George.

His gentle touch.

His reassuring words.

_Him._

She suddenly met his lips with hers. George was momentarily surprised, but seemed to have the same need to feel her as much as she needed to feel him. He shut off the water and picked her up in his arms before carrying her into the bedroom, lightly dropping her on the bed.

They were still kissing, their tongues lapping each other in their mouths passionately, their hands caressing over their now clean bodies. He helped scoot her body up towards the headboard and she felt him enter her.

Scarlett moaned softly, gasping in want and pleasure as he started to thrust inside her. She held onto him tightly still, as if this moment were too perfect for her to deserve and he would just vanish in an instant.

They made love like they never had before, but then in a moment, everything disappeared. Scarlett could feel it happen in slow motion.

Their pleasure went away, quickly and fiercely replaced by a numbness and lack of desire for anyone or anything anymore. George’s thrusts weakened and slowed, her hips moving to meet his thrusts ceasing. He looked down at her face and their eyes mirrored each other’s.

_Nothing._

They both moved away from each other to opposite sides of the bed and sat naked, staring at their hands in almost shame.

A heavy silence filled the room again for a long time. Then,

“I’m sorry, George,” Scarlett managed to whisper softly.

He glanced over at her.

“Me too.”

It wasn’t for lack of love they had for each other; they both knew that. It was a mutual understanding. They both almost died not even two hours ago underground, and their bodies were both still in shock.

She looked back over at him with sad eyes before she pulled back the covers of the bed and climbed underneath them, her nerves relaxing slightly as she felt the ecstasy and gratefulness of soft sheets. Scarlett held her arm out weakly to him.

“Come to bed, George,” she pleaded. “Come sleep.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He took her hand quickly moved under the covers with her, wrapping an arm protectively around her body and held her close. She buried her face in his chest, wrapping an arm around him as well and closed her eyes.

“Don’t you dare ask me to do anything like that with you again, Scarlett,” he whispered to her. “Don’t.”

She swallowed hard. There was no malice in his voice, but desperation. It hit her heart and hurt to even hear the pain in his voice. This man had gone to Turkey with her and she had left him in a jail so she could go to Iran to look for the Rose Stone. He had gone to the very ends of the earth, gone through _literal_ Hell for her tonight. There was no way she could ask him to do this again with her.

“I won’t, George,” she whispered back, her eyes still closed. “I promise.”


End file.
